


Ambrosia

by Rakshi



Category: Lord of the Rings RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-03
Updated: 2011-12-03
Packaged: 2017-10-26 20:07:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,649
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/287352
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rakshi/pseuds/Rakshi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A compelling stranger pays Elijah a visit.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ambrosia

He entered quietly, his greatcoat hanging heavily on his shoulders. The kitchen was dark, but he could see the remains of a meal still cluttering the table. His hand brushed down the neck of a wine bottle. He noted the place of its birth and nodded. A part of the glorious Napa Valley that he knew well. He came from there, too.

The noises from the living room dragged at his attention and he turned toward the light that illuminated the doorway. He walked there and stood silently, waiting. It took a moment for the young man to notice him...

"Hey, Sean!" he said, smiling. "Glad you're home. Been missing you." Elijah had been stirring the embers of the flickering fire. He rose to his feet and started to walk toward the solemn figure in the doorway. But to his surprise, the man held out his hand, as if in warning or… rejection.

Perplexed, Elijah stopped where he stood, his heart as frozen as his body. "Sean?" he asked softly. "What's wrong?"

The man shook his head and smiled a gentle smile. "God says:" he murmured in a low voice. "… you worry too much."

He moved into the room and stood in back of the sofa, his hands stroking the material as if he found the texture pleasant. "You're an important person."

Elijah sat down in the chair that faced the sofa and studied the man carefully. "Did God say that too?"

"Yes, in a manner of speaking. He did." He moved around the sofa and sat down. For a moment he seemed to study the floor, then his head lifted and he gazed directly into Elijah's eyes. "Do you know who I am?" he asked softly.

"I - I assume you're Mister Smith," he replied. "Why are you here instead of Sean?"

Smith stared at him. "I'm sort of in the same spot you are. I assume that's who I am, too. I really don't remember a lot of what happened to me after the 'Death'. And I - I haven't wanted to remember, I don't think. God says: ... " he hesitated for a moment, his eyes drifting this way and that, as if looking for a hiding place. Then he sighed and smiled at Elijah. "God says: Don't ask until you're sure you're ready."

"You didn't answer my second question."

"Why I'm here instead of Sean?"

"Yes."

"He sort of - well, actually he - " A soft, resigned sigh emerged from deep within him. "He sent me. He thought perhaps you could help me."

"Help you WHAT?"

"Help me find myself."

"Which self? The one before the 'Death'? Or the one after it?"

"Before. No, after. No! Either - both… I don't know."

"And what does God have to say about this?"

"So far… nothing. And that scares me."

Elijah stood. He hesitated for a moment, then walked to the sofa and sat down beside Smith.

The man turned toward him, and smiled shyly. "I don't mean to burden you. I don’t like to burden people, though I know that what I have to say does burden them at times."

"You haven't burdened me. I just don't know how I can help you. I don't know anything about you."

"You helped Sean."

"I - I did?"

"You helped him find himself."

"He said that?"

"Yes… though he didn't have to say it. I knew it."

Elijah reached for Smith's greatcoat. "Would you like to take this off?" The cloth under his fingers was rough textured and not particularly thick. As Smith shrugged out of his coat and surrendered it into Elijah's hands, he found himself wondering if it would keep Smith warm on cold nights when he was forced to sleep outside.

‘Wait a minute,’ Elijah thought, tossing the coat on a chair and turning to stare at the man who sat so thoughtfully on the couch. ‘This is a game! That's Sean. Not Smith. Sean! Why is he doing this?’

The man gazed at him gravely, and Elijah took a deep breath. "Does Sean want you to tell me something that he's afraid to tell me?"

Smith smiled. A slow, soft smile that seemed at odds with the quiet thoughtfulness of his features. "Are you afraid, Elijah?"

The question startled him, and Elijah leaned away from Smith. "Why do you ask that? No, I'm not afraid." His eyes suddenly narrowed. This had gone far enough. "Sean," he said firmly. "What the…"

Smith raised his hand and shook his head. "Not Sean," he murmured.

Elijah's sigh of frustration was his only response.

"No," Smith said. "I'm not here to give you a message from Sean. I'm here because he thought you could help me."

"Help you find yourself." Elijah said.

"Yes."

“Like I helped him find himself.”

“Yes.”

“I don’t know how I did that, Smith.”

“I guess he would say that you loved him.

“And you think I could love you the same way?” Elijah shook his head. “That’s not possible.”

Smith stared at the floor in front of his feet. He seemed lost in thought, and Elijah decided not to interrupt. He wasn’t sure what Sean wanted from this… charade seemed too strong a word. From this ‘scene’ was more like it. But Elijah was unsure of his role. This man seemed so much darker than his Seanie. So mystifying and complex. How could Elijah possibly help him? What did Sean want?

Smith turned back to Elijah. ‘His eyes seem dark,’ Elijah thought. ‘So much darker than Sean’s. Is he wearing contacts?’

“Have you ever seen anyone die of ‘The Big Death’?” Smith asked.

“No.”

“It’s - horrible,” Mister Smith said, his voice trembling.

“You saw this?” Elijah asked.

“I saw it,” he said.

“I’m sorry,” Elijah said. “It has to have been very hard for you.” He saw Smith’s hand tremble and instinctively reached out to take it in his… then stopped. “How old were you then?” he asked softly.

“Young,” Smith murmured. “Six or seven. I – I can’t remember for sure. My parents… they must have… but I can’t remember! I can’t remember them! I can’t remember any of it.”

“I don’t remember, but I know what it did. ‘The Big Death’ took everyone. It killed everyone who cared about me. Friends… family. People I loved. People who loved me. All gone. All dead. Every town I passed through stank of rotting corpses.” He stared at his hands as they clenched and unclenched. When he spoke again, his voice was a ragged whisper. “I don’t even have their memory to keep me company. To help me feel a part of them. A part of anything.”

“I’m sorry,” Elijah said again. “So you have no family left?

“I have my daughter.”

“Where is she?”

“In a safe place.” Smith said apprehensively. He looked uneasy, as though he was afraid of revealing too much.

“It’s OK,” Elijah told him, patting his arm. “You don’t have to tell me.”

Smith smiled. A soft, gentle smile that melted Elijah’s heart.

“Forgive me,” he said. “I don’t mean to seem… distrustful. I know you can be trusted. It just that… it’s my daughter, you understand. And there are many dangers in the world.”

“I understand,” Elijah said. Smith seemed so guileless. So innocent. Somehow in the midst of all he’d been through, a part of him had remained pure. Somehow untouched by the darkness he had witnessed. Maybe that’s why he could be the voice of God.

“What’s the first thing you remember?” he asked Smith.

“Walking down an unfamiliar road. I must have been ten or so… not much more. Walking down a dusty road alone. That’s my first memory. But… where was I before then? Who took care of me?”

“How did you survive?”

“I came across ‘The Tellers’ and I told them what I knew.”

“The Tellers?”

“They remember every thing that happened after ‘The Big Death’. They carry that history inside them. They preserve it for future generations.” Smith fell silent, his head lowered.

“But you have no history anymore,” Elijah said softly.

“No. I have no history. I simply bring them information when I can. I take pictures and save them in safe places. So other people won’t lose what I lost. So they WILL remember. So their stories won’t be lost like – like…”

“Like your story was lost,” Elijah said.

Smith nodded. “Yes. So they won’t be as alone as I am, with no past… no future… nothing to connect me to anyone… anything.”

“You remember nothing else?”

“I remember,” Smith began, then he stopped. He suddenly gasped and frantically grabbed Elijah’s arm.

“Jesus! What’s wrong?”

“I – I remember my wife being killed,” he stammered hoarsely. “Thieves. They’d found us at our campsite. I fought them while she tried to protect our daughter. But…” he stopped again, studying the floor. “We never had a chance,” he said softly.

Elijah covered Smith’s hand with his own. “It’s OK, Smith,” he said. “It’s OK now.”

“No,” Smith said taking his hand from Elijah’s arm and turning away. “It’s not. They left me for dead. And I wish I had been. But – no! I can’t wish that. There’s Rose to think of. Sweet Rose.”

“Your daughter.”

“Yes. She watched them kill her mother before she ran into the forest. The last thing I saw before I was knocked unconscious was my wife… fighting off the largest of them. And he had – ,” Smith seemed to almost choke, then he turned back to Elijah. His face was white and Elijah could see his hands trembling. “He had a knife.”

“That’s horrifying,” Elijah said softly. “But Smith, what – what can I do? What do you want from ME?”

“I tried to kill myself,” Smith said, seeming not to hear him. “I knew my daughter was safe. I knew that if I didn’t come back, she’d be cared for. I couldn’t stand it anymore. I couldn’t! It was all too ugly. Too… painful! I tried to drown myself.”

Elijah caught his breath in surprise. Sean had not revealed the show’s plot or much of the back-story.

“HE stopped me,” Smith said with sudden vehemence. “HE wouldn’t let me go!” He suddenly stood and paced restlessly in front of Elijah. “And now I have this…. THING inside me. This… GOD thing. And I can’t get rid of it.”

“Sean,” Elijah said, feeling suddenly alarmed. He tried to grab Sean’s arm. “Sean, you’re scaring me. Please stop this now.”

Smith jerked away from Elijah’s touch, then turned to face him. For a long moment he stared down at Elijah with eyes that were dark with pain. Then slowly, he knelt before him. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. Trembling fingers reached out and hesitantly caressed Elijah’s cheek. “I’m so sorry. Please forgive me. You’re the last person on Earth I’d want to frighten.”

“Seanie…” Elijah whispered imploringly. He covered Smith’s hand with his own and pressed it against his cheek, holding it there. “Please talk to me, Sean. Why are you doing this? I don’t understand.”

Smith’s head sank until it almost touched Elijah’s knee. His hand remained on Elijah’s cheek, his thumb softly caressing the satiny skin under his eye. He drew in a shivering breath. “God says,” he breathed, “you have a healer’s heart.” He lifted his head and gazed into Elijah’s eyes, his own eyes shining with tears.

“Sean says you have a pure heart,” Smith told him, caressing Elijah’s cheek with the back of his fingers. “Maybe they’re the same thing.”

“Like you and Sean are the same thing?” Elijah asked.

Smith smiled his soft, slow smile, and Elijah felt his heart dissolve with tenderness. Smith’s hands grasped Elijah’s arms, and tugged him gently forward. “Sean,” Elijah breathed.

“Smith,” he whispered in return, and kissed him.

Elijah’s breath caught as Smith’s lips touched his. His kiss conveyed a soft and trembling reticence that wrenched at Elijah’s heart. He could feel Smith’s whole body quaking from that one, tremulous touch. He withdrew slightly, as if giving Elijah the chance to back away. Then once again let his lips brush, feather-soft, against Elijah’s mouth.

Elijah heard him gasp as they kissed. “He loves you so much,” Smith murmured, his lips still touching Elijah’s.

“What do you want?” Elijah breathed.

Smith leaned back. “I want whatever you can give me,” he said. “I want whatever love you can share with me. I want to be healed. Even if the healing only lasts for that one moment. I want to feel the intimacy… the sense of belonging that I know Sean feels when he holds you in his arms. Then I’ll find myself again. Then I’ll be healed.”

“If you’re Smith,” Elijah said in a low voice, “I can’t make love with you. And I won’t. That’s only for Sean. I won’t share that intimacy with anyone else.”

Again, the smile that melted Elijah’s heart. He found himself wishing that Smith wouldn’t smile at him that way. It tore at his heart. It filled him with feelings of love and longing. Something in this was so familiar. So dear and safe that Elijah yearned to lose himself in it. To surrender to Smith with heart, mind and body.

For a moment Elijah looked into the dark, brooding eyes of the man who knelt before him, perplexed by the intensity of his feelings. Then it hit him. Playing this scene with Sean was movingly reminiscent of being in Middle-earth. Of him and Sean becoming Sam and Frodo. Endlessly running lines together. Of being in character… and yet not. Allowing the love they felt for each other and the intimacy they shared to shape those beloved characters. Molding them into the devotedly loving pair who graced movie screens around the world.

“Elijah, you don’t have to make love with me if you don’t want to,” Smith said quietly. His hands moved slowly up and down Elijah’s arms. Warm hands, big and strong. And again, Elijah yearned to pour himself into those hands. To be caught up by them and carried to wherever Smith wanted him to go. But, still he was unsure. Was it possible that Sean was testing him? Testing his fidelity? That seemed so unlike him, but….

Suddenly angry, he stood, pushing Smith back. “Damn it!” he cried. “This is nuts!” He turned to Smith, scowling angrily, eyes snapping blue fire. “Talk to me, Sean! I’ll play out this scene if you want me to, but I have to know what you want from me!”

Sean sighed and sank to the floor, hugging his knees. “Lij, I don’t know what I want.”

“Jesus, you scared me!” Elijah dropped to the floor beside him. “Don’t ever do that again! Not without talking to me first.”

Wordlessly, Sean took him in his arms and held him close. “I’m sorry, baby. I thought you could help me find him. Find his soul.”

Elijah felt the cocooning warmth of their embrace begin to seep into his bones, replacing anxiety with assurance and peace. ‘He’s my sanctuary,’ he thought. He pressed his face to Smith’s flannel shirt, inhaling the masculine tang of Sean’s skin. “I’ll help if you still want me to… but,” he sat back suddenly and looked hard at Sean. “You know, you’re one hell of an actor when you’re really into it,” he said quietly. “I honestly felt like I was cheating on you.”

Sean laughed softly. “I know. That was so sweet.” He leaned back to look into Elijah’s eyes. “But you’re not. Please know that. You’re not.”

Elijah nodded. “I like Smith,” he said, resting his head once again against Sean’s shoulder. “He seems like such a good guy.”

“He’s a mystery even to himself. And God? God is his One Ring. He both loves and hates the God thing inside him. He has to use it because without it there can be no victory over evil. But it also forces him to hurt people. To do things he doesn’t want to do. To know things he doesn’t want to know. And…” Sean hesitated.

“What?” Elijah encouraged.

“He’s so lonely!” Sean went on. “So alone. Oh, he has his daughter, but he sees her so seldom! And the God voice isolates him. People don’t want to be close to him because of it.”

“Why?”

“They’re afraid of what he’ll say to them. Afraid of what he knows. He sees them recoil and turn away when they see him coming.”

“Sean,” Elijah said, his voice low and comforting.

“He knows he’s a freak. He knows it! But he also knows that he can’t walk away. He has to do as the voice says… not just for himself. But for all the people who need that voice.”

“Seanie…” Elijah said, grasping his arm.

“What must it be like to be a prophet of God? To know you speak with God’s voice? What must it feel like to be that alone? That…” Sean’s voice trailed off. He turned to Elijah, his eyes searching Elijah’s face. “He’s seen such evil. Known such darkness. How could he even believe in God? And if he didn’t… what would the voice inside him BE? Delusion?” Sean asked, clutching Elijah’s arm. “Madness?”

Elijah grasped Sean’s broad shoulders in his hands and shook him gently. He was beginning to see the ties that bound Sean to this tortured, complex character. They both feared the brooding darkness of their own minds. Their hearts were tied to a past filled with grievous hurt, and both feared the shadow that lay sleeping within them because of it.

“Sean!” Elijah said, more firmly. “Stop this!” He leaned back against the couch and cradled Sean in his arms. He felt Sean’s head press against his chest. His breath warmed Elijah’s skin. “I love you,” Elijah whispered into his ear. “Sean, Smith, or Sam it doesn’t matter. It’s you. And I love you so much.”

Sean moaned softly and pressed his face to Elijah’s throat, his arms tight around his waist.

“God says I have a healer’s heart?” Elijah asked, his fingers carding slowly through sandy curls. He felt Sean’s head nod. “And you say I have a pure heart?” Again the head against his chest nodded slowly. Elijah took a deep breath. “So do you,” he whispered.

Sean’s head lifted and for a moment he gazed into Elijah’s eyes. “Lij?”

“What else does God say about me?”

Sean didn’t answer, but gazed steadily into Elijah’s eyes.

“Smith…,” Elijah whispered, “talk to me. What else does God say about me?”

Smith drew in a deep, shuddering breath. The eyes that gazed so unwaveringly into Elijah’s slowly darkened. “He doesn’t speak on demand,” Smith said softly. “But he says that you are filled with goodness.”

“And you? Surely you’re filled with goodness, too, since you’re ‘The Chosen’. The one who speaks with God’s voice.” Elijah’s fingers still moved soothingly through the curly hair. Smith’s arms tightened around him, dragging him closer, burrowing against him as if he were seeking comfort.

“I try to be,” he murmured. “But I have… dark thoughts at times. I’ve – I’ve done bad things. I’ve done - murder… other things. So, no, I’m not good. I’m not pure. Not anymore.” His arms tightened fiercely around Elijah’s body. “I want to be good! I want to be pure! I try! I try to be what the voice needs me to be. But I fail!”

Elijah’s mind flashed to excerpts from the book written by Sean’s mother and to conversations they’d had about his childhood. He knew that no matter how good Sean tried to be… nothing he did could forestall the violent outbursts. The humiliating attacks that were a symptom of his mother’s illness. Attacks that seemed to focus on Sean. To tear him down. To rip at his self image. To leave him feeling, always, that he had failed. That all he did was wrong. That HE was somehow a mistake, and not worth… loving.

Elijah slowly pushed Smith upright, then began to unbutton his flannel shirt. Smith stared at him in disbelief. “You don’t have to…,” he began.

“Shhh,” Elijah soothed, pushing the flannel shirt over Smith’s broad shoulders. “Hush now.” He tugged on the t-shirt. “Take this off.”

As Smith drew his t-shirt over his head, Elijah stood and quickly removed his clothes. He then knelt beside Smith. “The rest too,” Elijah whispered. His head was low and he looked up at Smith searchingly, gazing at him through thick lashes. “If you want to do this that is…” Elijah said. He heard Smith inhale sharply and saw him loosen the snap of his jeans and quickly lower the zipper.

“I want to do this,” Smith said, removing his jeans. “More than you could ever know.”

Elijah pulled pillows from the couch onto the floor, then stretched out beside Smith, his naked body glowing in the firelight. He could hear Smith’s breathing becoming tremulous. He rested his head on one of the pillows and pulled Smith against him. He felt Smith quiver and heard him gasp as their bared bodies touched.

“Shhh,” Elijah whispered. He gently caressed Smith’s shoulder, then slid his fingertips down the inside of his arm. Elijah’s touch was soft… languid… taking his time.

Smith felt desire course through him, astounding him with its force, scorching him with heat. Elijah’s touch was intoxicating. He had grown used to the hyper-awareness bestowed on him by contact with the voice, but now his awareness narrowed. All he knew or wanted to know were the rapturous sensations flowing unabated through his body. All he knew was this one small space bounded by the touch of his skin against Elijah’s.

He moaned as Elijah’s hand moved slowly over his body, transported by a bliss so complete he felt spellbound. Through a dull roaring in his ears he heard Elijah’s voice whispering his name. Everything else seemed hushed and indistinct, stilled by the longing that roared through him like wildfire.

He clutched Elijah close, kissing him once again, and felt Elijah’s fingers fist in his hair, crushing their mouths together with a desperate passion. Smith felt his whole world shift on its axis. “God,” he whispered. “Oh, god, Elijah, I want you so much.”

His senses reeled as he uttered the word that, for years, had served only to beat down his identity, submerging him utterly in the immense energy of the over-soul, separating him from every other being. He had withered in that isolation, and his loneliness was a constant, bitter ache inside him. But now the name beckoned him toward a different kind of unity. It called him toward a wholeness he’d never believed could be his again. A wholeness that restored. A wholeness that healed.

“Elijah,” he whispered, lost in a euphoric dream. Drugged by desire and something else… love. He rolled onto his back and drew Elijah’s slender body on top of his. “Stay,” he whispered, his hand moving with slow, sensuous strokes over Elijah’s body. “Please stay. Don’t leave me.”

He felt Elijah’s head shake in response. “Never leave you,” he whispered. “I’m part of you now.”

For a long time their bodies moved together in total harmony, rocking in mindless bliss. Then Smith heard Elijah whimper and felt the slight frame on top of his tense. His body rose up to meet Elijah’s urgent thrust and he cried out in joy as they came together… pulsing in rapture.

Elijah heard Smith sobbing as their bodies shuddered with tremors of ecstasy. “Hey,” he whispered against Smith’s ear. “It’s OK. It’s all OK now.” He felt Smith’s arms tighten, convulsively, around him, his face pressed to Elijah’s throat. He slowly turned until they lay side by side on the piled up pillows. “Elijah,” he choked. “God, Elijah. Heaven. You took me to heaven.”

“Yeah?” Elijah said, laughing softly. He lifted his head to gaze into Smith’s eyes. “Me and the other guy. We’re both good at that. We just have different methods.”

“Sean was right about you. You do have a healer’s heart,” Smith said drawing him back down against his body.

Elijah laughed. “Well, I hope he’ll forgive me for sharing it with a guy who’s damn near a total stranger.”

“And yet, not,” Smith breathed, pressing his face to Elijah’s skin.

“And yet not,” Elijah agreed. He felt Smith’s head move from side to side, softly rubbing his face against the smoothness of Elijah’s skin. Then Smith inhaled deeply and his tongue traced a soft pattern on his chest.

“So good,” Smith said with a whispered moan. “So good to feel you. So good to be close to you. It’s been so long since I’ve felt this. To smell your skin, to taste it. It’s…,” he hesitated and blushed, then spoke in a hoarse whisper. “…it’s ambrosia.”

“Ambrosia?” Elijah asked, raising his head again to look at Smith questioningly.

Smith smiled and his fingers softly tracing the planes and angles of Elijah’s face. “Food of the gods,” he whispered. “It’s no wonder he’s so very much in love with you.”

Elijah gazed down at him, feeling a kind of wonder fill his heart.. and then a kind of fear. “Sean?” he said quietly. “Seanie? Is it you.. or him?”

“How about both,” Sean murmured. “You got two for the price of one this time.” He drew Elijah down to rest beside him.

“Did it help? Do you think we touched him? Jesus, this sounds so schizophrenic!”

Sean laughed and stroked Elijah’s back comfortingly, tracing the lines of his back and sides. He turned his head to kiss Elijah’s neck. “Thank you, baby. I know that had to have seemed a little weird.”

Elijah smiled, thinking of Sam and Frodo. “No. Not weird at all. It was Smith. But it was also you.” He thought for a moment then spoke again. “I like him,” Elijah said. “I hope it helped him.”

“It did,” Sean said quietly, his fingers absently caressing warm, smooth skin. “It helped ME, that much I know. I felt his isolation, how horribly segregated he feels from the rest of humanity. How this ‘god thing’ oppresses him. It really is like the One Ring in a way. Only it can’t be destroyed or even taken off. It’s inside him. And when it calls, he has no choice but to obey.”

“Gotta be hard on him,” Elijah mused.

“At times he’s thought of suicide… because it’s so hard to bear. Knowing all he knows but having no way to change it.”

Elijah’s head lifted and he shot Sean an apprehensive glance.

“He won’t though,” Sean said reassuringly. “He has his little girl to think of, and he’d never do that to her.”

“Another bond you share,” Elijah murmured.

“Another?” Sean asked.

“Never mind,” Elijah told him, starting to rise to his feet. “C’mon. Let’s go to bed. We’ve got Smith sorted out, now maybe we can work on US a bit.” Sean rose with him and took his hand. Together they walked to the bedroom and crawled into bed.

Sean gathered Elijah into his arms, savoring the sweetness of his body. He stroked the dark head pressed to his chest. “God, you feel so good.”

“He said that, too,” Elijah murmured, drifting inexorably toward sleep. “Smith.”

Sean nodded. “I know.” He felt Elijah relax against him as he drifted off, yet for a long time Sean couldn’t sleep. He listened to Elijah’s soft breathing, feeling a thrill he couldn’t quite comprehend as Elijah’s chest rose and fell with each soft, rhythmic breath. He inhaled slowly… deeply. “Smith?” he whispered into the dark, silent room.

“God says,” he heard a voice echo softly in his mind, “you’re one of the blessed. Food of the gods, Sean. It doesn’t merely nourish the body. It nourishes the soul too.”

Sean smiled. “I know,” he whispered. “I’ve always known.” And holding the one he loved close to him, he drifted into sleep.


End file.
